


In The Footsteps Of Giants

by NyxEternal



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi, Next Generation, Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEternal/pseuds/NyxEternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen years after the events of Trespasser, the Veil grows weak and Lady Hissra Adaar calls upon her old allies one, final time. However, many are no longer able, or willing, to do what they once did, let alone with a severely weakened Inquisition. But all is not lost when the Inquisition's second generation decides to take it upon themselves to finish the job their parents started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Herald's Footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun little next generation fic I started. My first work on Ao3! I sincerely hope you enjoy.

“Fifteen fucking years!”

Asala could hear his mother pacing as she spoke. It was late, judging from the smell of the candles burning and the chill in the air. She rarely snapped like that, let alone after a discussion with Lord Dorian. He cocked his head toward the door, shifting just the barest bit closer.

“Why would he wait fifteen blasted years to do something?” His mother snapped. She smacked her hand down on the table in the room and he heard The Iron Bull’s heavy footsteps. While he helped raise him, Asala never did feel comfortable calling him father. At least, however, he was a good man.

“We will have to contact Cullen,” Aunt Leliana. He knew that voice anywhere. Tactical and careful, but tired. “Perhaps we can even persuade Leilyn-”

“No. Absolutely not. I told him this was my burden.” His mother’s voice cracked. Asala rose from his seat and grabbed his staff, holding it out in front of himself to make sure he did not bump into anything as he made his way closer to the door. He knew the names, but only as that. She spoke rarely of them, but fondly.

“Whatever you decide to do, Kadan, I will be here for you.” The Iron Bull always spoke so warmly to his mother. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that they truly loved each other, but he could tell from how his mother spoke sometimes that things were tense between them.

“We damn well had spies and soldiers and connections spread so far over the Imperium, I thought for sure we would have caught him before he made a move!” She never sounded so angry. Asala stopped and held his hand out until it touched the wall, then pressed his back to it and slid over till he reached the door. It was frightening to hear her like this.

“We can handle this. Just like old times.” Bull growled. “All we have to do is kick some major demon ass until we can get a hold of him again.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” His mother sighed. “But that was fifteen years ago. Our last adventure was fifteen fucking years ago and I don’t think we can do this again.”

Asala gripped his staff tighter and bowed his head. His mother was a strong woman, physically and emotionally. To hear her sound so defeated was terrifying.

“So what do you propose we do, Inquisitor?” Leliana rarely used that title to refer to her anymore. In fact, Asala could not remember the last time anyone called her that. “Sit back and watch as the whole world burns?”

“What else can we do?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She sounded so weak and fragile then. "No... I suppose you're right."

Asala took a deep breath, then opened the door. An uneasy silence met him as he stepped into the room, using his staff to guide himself. His mother approached, her footsteps uneven but light. 

“What do you think you’re doing awake at this hour?” She asked, her voice warm but tired. He always liked to imagine that his presence brought a smile to her face, judging from her tone of voice.

“I was too hot.” He lied. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and clicked her tongue. “Is everything alright, mother?”

“Everything is fine.” She kissed his forehead. He was thankful that he was a much better liar than her. “Try to lay down and get some more rest. If you still feel warm in the morning, we’ll speak to one of the doctors.”

“Yes ma’am.” He said, his lips quirking into a smile for her benefit before he made his way back into the other room. He closed the door behind himself, then made his way to the bottom floor. Stairs were often quite difficult for him to navigate, but by some fortune he had managed to not seriously injure himself so far.

Rest, however, was far from gracing him. His mind ran rampant with what he had overheard, coupled with the stories he had been told over the years. Stories of the famous Inquisition, a group of rebels and heretics that later became a powerful political and military force that stopped a crazed, ancient power from destroying the world, ended a war from the Qunari and continued to provide ample support to Orlais and Fereldan until eight years ago, when the blazing fire of it's power began to die into sad, scattered embers. And to know that their work was to begin anew when it seemed none of them were as able was a horrifying thought.

But while his mother could not fight anymore, Asala  _could_.


	2. The Retired Templar's Footsteps

“Sweet Maker, this can’t be real.”

Catherine stopped mid-swing when she heard her father cry out in surprise. She looked over at him to see he held a letter in his hands, and a scout wearing the Inquisition’s sigil standing before him. While she had grown up knowing the stories, this was her first time ever seeing an Inquisition scout.

“Written by spymaster Leliana herself, with Lady Adaar dictating.” The scout said, taking no precaution to quiet himself even as Catherine approached. Her father looked at her, then back at the scout. She didn't like that look.

“We will have to discuss this inside and away from prying eyes.” Her father muttered in a hushed tone. That meant it was nothing for her to hear.

That meant it was something she wanted to hear.

As her father led the scout into their home, Catherine went to gather her brothers. It came as no surprise to see Anthony all but wrestling with their father’s mabari while Robert watched, seated firmly on the fence. She whistled and the mabari stood at attention, no longer concerned with Anthony.

“What’d you have to go and do that for, Cat?” Robert asked. “He was about sit on Anthony!”

“We have something much more important to handle.” She said as the dog trotted over. She knelt down and scratched behind his ear, smiling as he forced his head further into her hand. “There’s a scout talking to father. In _private_.”

Both boys perked up faster than the dog had. Robert all but launched himself off the fence, landing with a light thud on his feet. Anthony got up off the ground and brushed himself off, for all the good it did with mud and dog slobber.

“So you want us to spy on dad?” Anthony asked. She nodded and the boys smacked their hands together. “On it!”

They ran off without another word, leaving her and the dog in the field. Of course, her job was far more important. If their other father came home before they found anything worthwhile, they would all be in trouble. Time trickled by as she waited for her brothers to return.

She played with the dog, brushed the horses and trained to try to make the time go by faster. Her curiosity thwarted all her efforts, however.

Half a day seemed to go by, leaving the end result to her patience of her sitting on the fence like her brother had. They had a pleasant little home, better than some and lesser than others. It gave no credit to either of her fathers' prestigious status or history. No one would ever suspect it to be the home of a name as famous as Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition's forces.

In truth, the only reason she knew the story was because of Aunt Mia. Most stories she heard from Aunt Mia, though daddy often told her not to listen to them. They were fantastic, like something out of a novel, filled with adventure and wonder. Life or death situations, traces of romance, but most importantly, they were about her fathers and their staunch nobility and desire to protect the world.

Part of her wanted to lead a life like that someday. Sacrificing all of the peace and quiet comfort to make a difference in the world, to protect people. It was a noble cause to dedicate oneself to, after all. But, she knew it would tear her parents apart. 

Could she really let that control her life, though?

Her other father approached before her brothers did, dragging her from her thoughts. Her head shot up when she heard the sound of his old horse plodding up the path. Horse and rider looked tired, but her father smiled at her regardless.

“Where’s your father?” He asked when she ran over, the mabari chasing after her in excitement.

“Daddy’s out hunting again.” She lied. “Anthony and Robert went with him.”

Her father quirked a brow at her, then shook his head. She knew it was impossible to lie to him, but she had to at least try. He seemed unconcerned, at least.

“You were gone for a couple of days,” Catherine commented as she pat the horse’s neck. “Was the lecture far away or did something come up?”

“People didn’t want to listen.” He said, his tone hinting that she shouldn’t ask any further. She started to say something, but stopped when she saw her brothers. Her father chuckled and dismounted, then led the horse to the stables while Anthony ran to her.

“Someone called the Inquisitor is calling on dad.” Anthony whispered. “He’s really mad about it, too.”

“I wonder why…” Catherine mused, looking toward the stables. From the way her father always talked, the Inquisitor was no more and the Inquisition that remained was shattered, broken.

But it seemed, now, there was more to that story.


	3. The Lost's Footsteps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess, I have no actual Cadash. Mirta's father does not exist except he does.

“This is absurd. She has to be kidding.” Mirta heard her father say. She looked over at him, her paintbrush suspended over the paper. “It’s been fifteen blasted fucking years!”

“What’s going on?” Mirta asked softly. He looked at her, then back at the note in his hands. It bore the seal he had on the armor that he showed her sometimes. The seal of the Inquisition.

But the Inquisition was no more. He told her that himself. It couldn’t sustain itself or the goal it hoped to achieve. A goal, he insisted, that was pointless after so many years of inactivity.

“Ah, Mirta…” He looked away and she got up, then snatched the letter from him. “Wait!”

_Dearest Kudlin Cadash,  
_

_I pray this letter finds you well. And I also pray you might forgive me for not writing sooner. As well as that you might forgive me for writing at all._

_It is with a heavy heart that I must call you to come to Haven, so you might join with what remains of our order one last time. The years have gone by, and we are old, broken, but we are, once again, all that stands between those who wish to destroy the world and their goal._

_I ask you, not as Inquisitor, but as friend, to aid me in this final battle. The wolf has bared his teeth, I pray you are not devoured by the time this letter reaches you._

_Sincerely,_

Mirta stared at the signature. It was hard to make out, but she managed to figure it out. Lady Hissra Adaar. Her father mentioned her often as the Inquisitor, a Qunari people called the Herald of Andraste. He said a lot of people had a good laugh about it, even today.

She was also part of a  _set_. The second name was missing from the letter. She was curious about that, but there was a more important question burning at the back of her mind. She looked over at her father, tired and worn as he was.

There was no way that old man could fight, not again.

“So when do we leave?”


	4. The Champion's Footsteps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leilyn is only technically a Trevelyan. But that's a story for another day.

“Mother, you’ve a letter from Leilyn and Cullen!” Sollon called, his voice dragging Lunes from her book. She looked up, scowling as he came charging through to their mother.

Their names could never be more fitting. He was the sun, bright and energetic, and she was the moon. Quiet.  _Calm_.

Their mother took the letter and made her way to the fireplace. In her old age, it seemed no easy task to get around anymore. Not to say their mother was old, father was truly a bit older, but she wore it worse. Old wounds, mother told them. Some things never healed right.

Sollon helped her to her seat and opened the letter for her. Bright and energetic Sollon, with mother’s red curls but father’s green eyes. And a smile that didn’t fit either parent. It was hard to take them for twins some days.

“Cullen must’ve written this,” Mother commented. “I can actually read it for a change.”

Lunes snorted at this and turned back to her book. It was likely just an update on life, or some milestone accomplished by one of her nephews. Either way, it meant little to her.

“No.” She heard her mother whisper. She frowned and looked back over to see her mother’s hand drop, her eyes focusing on the fire. She paused, then bowed her head. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“What does it say?” Lunes asked as she walked over, setting the book on the table. Her mother looked at her and, for the first time in her entire life, she saw tears in her eyes. Still, she forced a smile and reached out to stroke her hair.

“I love you and your brothers dearly, please don’t forget that.” Mother whispered before leaning over to kiss Sollon’s forehead. Lunes took this chance to take the letter, but before she could read it someone reached around her to take it.

Lunes turned to see her father examining the letter, eyes narrowed at it. He was stubborn, failing to admit his sight was starting to fail him. Still, he was determined to read the letter. When the words finally made sense to him, his expression fell and he looked at mother.

“I have to go. Leilyn needs me there.” She said in a hurry. “You can’t keep me from this.”

“You can barely walk, let alone lift a sword anymore.” Father argued. The look in his eyes spoke volumes more, Lunes knew it. He knew what was going to happen. Mother would do what she set out to do, even if it killed her. “You can’t leave me alone again.”

“Fenris…”

“No! You cannot do this, not again!” He snapped. Lunes took the chance to take the letter, quickly scanning over it to figure out what was making her parents argue.

_Mother,_

_The Inquisition has called on Cullen and I again. Hissra has called us back to Haven, after she_ swore  _she would leave me out of this. I… I’m scared, I don’t want to go back to where this all began._

_I don’t know what to do. If you can offer me any advice, please. I need support._

_Your son,_

_Leilyn Rutherford_

Lunes looked at her parents, then at her brother. Leilyn needed someone there from the family, and while it would’ve arguably been a great idea for mother to go, father was right.. Besides that, she would never be able to make the journey.

“We’ll go.” Lunes said, moving to stand by Sollon. Their parents stopped and stared at her and she held her head higher. “What? He’s our family, too.”

“You can’t-…” Their mother sighed, looked down, then looked back at them. “Don’t… Don’t fight alongside them. Just go to help your brother cope. If things look bad, you bring him here. Understood?”

“Yes, mother.” Lunes said, then gave her mother a hug. Of course, they wouldn’t listen. They all knew it. The warning and the agreement were simply for show.

They were Hawkes, after all.


	5. The King's Footsteps

Arelia’s idea of fun was nothing like hers. Her idea of fun was trying on pretty clothes or practicing her makeup, not sneaking out of the castle. Not doing whatever Maker blasted thing Arelia wanted to do.

“Mother and father will be upset.” Fiona muttered. “And I am not the adventuring type.”

Arelia huffed and crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was a lean, slender thing. Built like if she stood behind an average sized tree, she would disappear completely. Fiona supposed that was part of what made her so good at being a hunter and a thief.

“So you want me to do this all by myself?” She asked, her lilting voice sharp with aggravation. “What if I can’t make it there? Traveling in a group is always safer than traveling alone!”

“Perhaps you have forgotten I am a princess.” Fiona sighed as she rose from her seat on the bed. What sort of crazed person has this discussion at night? “If I were to go missing, my father would tear all of Fereldan and half of Orlais apart looking for me.”

“Leave a note.” Arelia said, waving one hand to the side. “Mother said this is the chance of a lifetime, that we could be part of some world event that will change history.”

“That’s all fine and well, but people  _die_  changing history.” Fiona snapped. “If I die, then there will be no heir to the throne!”

“Come now, Fiona…” Arelia smiled and reached for her hands, watching her through half open eyes. “Do you really believe I’d let you die?”

“N-no, you can’t do that!” Fiona whined, yanking her hands away and turning away. Maker take that girl! Arelia wrapped her arms around her and rest her chin on her shoulder.

“And what if something happens to me out there?” She whispered. “What if no one knows to tell you?”

“Don’t you do this to me, Reli.” Fiona muttered. “You’re horrible.”

“Your life would be boring without me.” She chimed with a laugh. “Leave your absence to my mother. She will handle it, just come with me.”

“Your mother is half mad. Father says she talks like the mother of a woman he knew once.” She spat. “You know how he dislikes us being so close.”

“Only because a queen needs a king.” Arelia said, kissing her cheek. “Get ready. We leave before they wake up.”

Arelia released her then darted out the door. Fiona wondered what would happen if a servant found her. Perhaps it would keep her from this wild plan.

But the odds of that were slim. She knew this. Arelia was a living shadow that could dance on a lake without ever getting her feet wet. Light footed and fast, she was half sure if she ran and jumped far enough she could fly.

Fiona sighed and changed into a tunic and breeches, doing the best she could to make herself appear less like a princess. When she looked in the mirror, however, she still saw a princess. It took a hat, some dust and makeup to finally make her seem like a normal girl.

In all honest truth, she was excited. Her father served alongside the Hero of Fereldan once. He was a Grey Warden, noble and dedicated. Her mother was fierce and brave, to her at least, with a hidden strength most seemed to never see. They had proven their right to the throne, earned the honor of overseeing the well-being and safety of the country. It was only fair she be given the same chance.

After assuring she looked less like a princess and more like a commoner, she set together to gathering things to bring. Mother’s necklace that she gave her for her birthday, a ring with the Grey Warden sigil from her father, a pair of knives she could use to protect herself with if she had to. Some food and some spare clothes later, and she was ready to go.

As prepared as she was, however, her heart could not stop racing.


	6. In Duty's Footsteps

Haven was far from quiet after having the chantry rebuilt, but now it was humming with a vibrancy unrivaled. The only other time it could have even argued to bring so vibrant was after the Conclave. If even then.

Haven was, once more, a place of religious importance.

And now, it was the last meeting place for the members of the Inquisition. All who could be tracked down and contacted were called on to attend. Of all of them, the only ones who did not show were Vivienne, Sera, Thom Rainier and Varric Tethras.

One by one they arrived. Most with family or children. All very tired.

Catherine's mount supported her and her brothers as they marched through the snow. Both her parents shared a horse, but not father's old mare. A younger stallion, whiter than the snow.

The rebuilt Haven chantry was gorgeous, not that Catherine knew what it ever looked like before. It stood tall and proud, with a statue of the two Heralds holding the mark of the Inquisition between them.

"That's father!" Robert exclaimed as he leaned around Anthony to look. Anthony gasped and Catherine urged the horse faster.

The courtyard held the ghostly remains of a garden that might've thrived in other seasons. There was a stable and some merchants had taken up post as if this were a celebration. It looked just as bust as a lively town or a city.

Catherine directed the horse to the stables and dismounted. Her brothers hopped off and she gave the reigns to a young man. She grabbed her brothers' hands and took them to the statue, followed by their parents.

"It's ridiculously gaudy." Father muttered. "Who thought of this? No one asked my permission."

"Now, now." Daddy scolded him. "You're not going to be outside nearly enough for it to offend."

Her father made a disgusted noise and walked to the doors of the chantry. She followed, keeping the boys close to her. She knew better than to let them wander. Haven had seen more than enough damage.

The inside of the chantry was no less amazing. Alongside the normal paintings of Andraste were depictions of all the good the Inquisition had done, concluding in a beautiful painting of her father and a Qunari woman slaying Corypheus. She wondered if the stories and paintings did any justice to the real ordeal.

Aside from the fantastic art and the pretty interior, the chantry was full of life. But not all the faces here were foreign to her and Catherine found herself letting go of her brothers to approach a boy with wild red curls. She tapped his shoulder and smiled when he turned to see her.

"Catherine! I didn't know they were bringing you!" Her uncle exclaimed. They weren't far in age, perhaps only three years apart, with her being older. She and her brothers were taken in by Leilyn when they were quite little. 

"To be fair, at first, they didn't either." She laughed when she hugged him. His sister, Lunes, stood off to the side, her eyes fixed on the templars that had come to pay tribute. "I see aunt Lunes is absolutely thrilled."

Lunes shot her a look, then walked away. Catherine shook her head. In the few times they had met through the years, she and her aunt never really got along. That was, in part, because of her desire to follow her father's footsteps someday and join the Order.

Not that he very much approved of that goal.

"Where are your parents?" She asked Sollon. While it was odd to call them her grandparents, she loved Sollon's mother to pieces. She told some of the best stories, even if they all came with steadfast warnings to not follow her example.

"Mum couldn't make it." Sollon muttered. Catherine nodded, then looked over to her father. Lunes was already talking to him with the twins quick to almost tackle her down. She yelled at them, they laughed, it was nothing abnormal.

In fact, so far, this was like any typical family reunion. Just in a very large place with a lot of people that she didn't know, and without Sollon's parents. And in a very beautiful chantry.

A door opened behind Sollon and he nearly jumped when he turned to look. An older elven woman stepped out, her greying hair tied into a mostly undone ponytail. No sooner did she step out was she followed by a younger elf, and a girl who seemed desperate to try and make herself seem as small and plain as could be. Which made her stand out more.

The woman walked toward her parents, but the girls stopped when they saw her and Sollon. The elf looked her over with big, excited brown eyes, her dark brown hair a wild and tangled mess. The other girl stayed a little behind her.

"So, we've got another one?" The elf asked, putting a hand on her hip. "Name's Arelia. You?"

"Catherine..." She said, frowning when she looked at Sollon. He gave her a half-grin and shrugged. Arelia chuckled.

"Nice to meet you, Cat! The shy one here's Fiona, and seems you already know Sollon." She said. The girl behind her squeaked and buried her face against her back.

"Reli!" She whined. Arelia laughed and looked back at her, then shifted so she could wrap her arm around her.

"She's pretty shy, if I say so myself. So, you hear because the Inquisition's important folks've been called here?" Arelia asked while Fiona scowled at her. When she wasn't hiding behind her friend, Fiona held herself with all the posture belonging to a noble, giving Catherine reason to believe she was from an important family. And here without their permission or knowledge.

"Yes." Catherine answered, straightening herself up. "One of my fathers commanded their military forces, and the other was Inquisitor himself. And what about you?"

"Mum was just a friend of Lady Adaar's. No clue who my father is." Arelia grinned. "For all I know, he's the very guy the remnants of the Inquisition's lookin' for."

"What do you mean?" Sollon asked before Catherine had the chance to open her mouth. 

"You don't know the stories?" She asked, her eyes dancing with excited mischief. "Lady Adaar's been hunting the Dread Wolf himself according to mum."

"Isn't that the Dalish god of misfortune? How can you hunt a god?" Sollon asked, crossing his arms. "I'm sure that isn't it at all."

"No, no! Fen'Harel walked among the Inquisition." Arelia said, making a wide gesture with her hands as Fiona squirmed away from her. "He was the reason for the big old rip in the sky that caused the Inquisition, he's the reason things have been  _off_."

"Off?"

"According to Lady Adaar, there's been reports, you know? Of small rips in the Veil all over the world. She's been sending scouts to destroy some old artifacts Fen'Harel had them activate, claiming it would strengthen the Veil." She explained as she walked toward one of the paintings of the Inquisition. "She couldn't get all of 'em though. And what's better is some elves have been noticing they could do things they couldn't before."

"Like what?" Catherine asked. The painting Arelia stood in front of was a portrait of all the important people of the Inquisition, with her father and the Qunari woman in the front. Beside her father stood the woman who became the Divine and a couple of men she didn't recognize, and her other father, while it seemed the others stood beside the Qunari.

"Magic, stronger than they ever thought they could." She said, looking at the portrait. "Mum says Lady Adaar's letter told her about a would-be slave in Tevinter, an elf that couldn't even speak the common tongue. When they caught him, they determined he wasn't a mage. But something happened when they brought him to the Imperium."

"And what was that?" Sollon asked. He sounded more on edge than he should have, angry at the mention of the Imperium. If what the Tale of The Champion was anything to go by, his father was an ex-slave.

"He blew up half the docks." Arelia grinned at him. "It was some powerful magic, they say. Could rival a magister. Problem is, no one knows where he went."

"Do you think it's Fen'Harel?" Catherine asked as she looked at a portrait of the Inquisitors and a bald elf in front of a green hole in the sky. Even growing up with the stories, she knew precious little about what happened.

"No, but I believe he is the reason it happened. And that missing elf is the answer to a lot of the questions Lady Adaar has." Arelia said, looking past her and Sollon. Catherine turned to look, finding herself staring at a lean figure, with horns coming from his forehead and holding his staff out in front of him. "It will be quite interesting to see how destiny plays out."


End file.
